


Wrong House

by orphan_account



Category: Game Grumps, Ninja Sex Party - Fandom
Genre: Branding, F/M, Knifeplay, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-07 23:47:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6830320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your bank account has ran dry and your lifestyle demands financial sacrifice to keep itself afloat. You go back to your old games as a thief but it looks like you've picked the wrong house. </p><p>Warning for rape and violence</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Build up

I shook the iron gate with one hand, the other tapping my leg impatiently as the lock rattled loudly, huffing a little. I thought this place would be an easy hit, nice quick in and out job but it was a little more secure than I thought. But I really wasn’t one to give up easily, so I took a few steps back and glanced around, noticing a point where I could scale the wall. Not stopping to think about how I would get back out, I set to work clambering up the stones, perching on the top for a moment before hopping down and setting off at a jog towards the house, stones crunching under my feet.   
I didn’t like thinking of myself like a thief, I had only done it a few times to fund my..let's just call it my lifestyle. My bank was dry again and I needed a little bonus, so I decided to pick a random house and go for it after dark. I scooted around the house until I noticed an open window, just one floor up. After a few minutes of clawing and kicking my way up the wall, I managed to hurl myself up inside the dark room. It wasn’t easy, the bricks left my fingertips and knuckles covered in tiny cuts, hands red from the climb. At least I was inside and hadn’t made too much noise. 

I rooted around in some nearby drawers, some people still left cash around for some reason but I wasn’t having any luck. Out in the hallway I paused to let my eyes adjust then slid along the walls, poking my head through an open door. It looked like a bedroom, with a sleeping figure tucked neatly up in a rather decadent bed. Obviously I would rather hit an empty house but I could work with this, long as I didn’t wake them up. 

The next room was some kind of bathroom, a small stack of change sat on the side of the sink which I quickly grabbed and shoved into my pocket, other hand rubbing the back of my neck. I was really counting on there being more easy to grab stuff, with someone sleeping in the house I couldn’t go trying to drag out anything big, I had to hope for cash or maybe phones just lying around. The next room, while having nothing I could take, was certainly the most interesting. It was a study, one wall lined with towering bookcases and the other with a seriously impressive array of bladed weapons. I had seen displays like this before but they didn’t look nearly as real as this set. They actually looked like they could be used and this was confirmed when I brushed my fingertips against the blade of a partially large kantana, hissing in pain a little and cursing under my breath.  
“Shit..fuck that’s sharp” 

I turned my back on that wall and focused on the desk, then on the decanta half full of some dark red liquid which I was more than happy to take a long swig out of, staring out the window for a moment and wondered what I was doing with my life. After a few more swigs I dumped the decanta back down on the desk and turned around, ready to get back to work. It took me a few seconds before I noticed the kantana I had been admiring before was gone. 

I really wasn’t sure what to do. Someone else was in here and they were armed. My breathing suddenly sounded too loud, my heart too. I really should have turned to the window, opened it up and gotten the hell out of there but I was terrified to turn my back on the room again. I stepped back and bumped into the desk, head starting to spin with the panic. Finally I span around, grabbing the bottom of the window and trying to pull it open only to be shoved forced, one hand on the nape of my neck and my forehead pressed against the cold glass. I opened my mouth to scream but the hand shifted, clamping over my jaws and forcing them shut. My heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest and my lungs burnt with the speed I was trying to pump air into them. 

I was forced to stay still for a few minutes, any attempts I made to try and wiggle free were met with an even tighter grip on my neck and jaw, nails digging into my skin. I peered at the glass, trying to getting a glimpse of the man who had me pinned but it was tough to see, the most I could see were a pair of eyes glaring into the back of my skull. Finally I was flipped around, slamming my back against the wall with one hand on the side of my neck and a thumb pressed into my windpipe. The missing katana was in his other hand, the tip resting against the ground. 

“...I-I’m sorry, ple-” I was cut off as he just squeezed on my neck harder, clearly not interested in what I had to say for myself. I shifted and thrust my hand into my pocket and dropped the change I took earlier onto the floor “That's it, that's all I took I swear, please do-don’t... don't hurt me” 

He didn't make a sound, just pushed me back against the wall and released my neck, stepping back and lifting the decanta I had been helping myself to earlier, swirling the dark liquid around a little.   
“..y-yeah I drank some of that too..” My head dropped, eyes focusing on my hands. I jumped a little as the study door slowly creaked open, a second man standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes roughly  
“Brian what's going on, what's with all the noise?”


	2. Chapter 2

I instantly preferred the new stranger, despite being taller he was far less intimidating, switching on the lights and pulling the reason I was in their house in the middle of the night from me, which was somewhat like pulling teeth, with a somewhat pissed off, but far less terrifying expression than the black clad man. I kept my head low, hoping maybe if I looked pitiful enough they would just let me leave without calling the police. Plus I really didn’t want to look at this ‘Brian’ he was still staring from the doorway and keeping my head down in a kind of sad defeat was a good excuse for avoiding eye contact.   
“I’m really sorry but...but my mom's sick. I-I was trying to get some money for her. I promise I’ll never do it again” It was total bullshit but the couple of times I had been caught pickpocketing, the whole sick mother thing usually softened people up a little. It was far better than the real reason. 

“Well that sucks but seriously kid you can’t just..do this kind of shit” I peered up to see the taller one rubbing his face, letting out a soft whine 

“..are you gonna call the police?” 

He didn’t reply but I was sure of the answer. There was a pause, within which I glanced around the room looking for a possible way out. Brian had the door blocked, though he had put the weapon away so maybe if I could arm myself, I could force my way past. Or there was the window but I had no idea what kind of drop would be waiting for me, or even if I could get it open. 

I took a small step back, fingers brushing against the desk behind me. The only thing even close to a weapon I had within grabbing distance was the decanta, but maybe that would work. It was made from quick thick, heavy glass, with a nice long neck good for swinging. I took a long, deep breath then reached back, grabbing the neck and swinging forward, aiming for the taller man’s head but not quite reaching, instead hitting his shoulder and really only knocking him back a little. 

I tried to dodge around him but one hand grabbed my shoulder and shoved me back into the middle of the room, the bottle being knocked out of my hand. Taller man had gone from looking quite pissed off to genuinely angry, rubbing his shoulder and taking a couple of steps back   
“Damn it..go ahead Brian, do what you want with her. I’m going back to bed” 

I tried to jump up to my feet but felt a heavy boot plant itself onto my chest, slamming my back against the floor. When I just kept kicking and struggling, Brian shifted to crouch down by my head, one hand holding my chin to hold my head still as he roughly slapped my cheek, lightly at first but they got rougher and much harder very quickly. It was only when my head was throbbing and my legs went limp did he stop, grip on my chin laxing a little, thumb brushing against the blood starting to flow from my nose. I felt him stand up, leaning down to grab my ankle and start dragging me across the carpet. 

My vision was a little hazy from the beating, and though I did have the strength to struggle a little, I really didn’t want to prompt another attack like that. I felt my head thudding against the stairs, then smack another cold tiles and yet more stairs, only these were much rougher, cold stone instead of polished wood. 

I finally stopped and was given the chance to look around, confirming that I had been dragged down to a dark, apparently empty basement. I was just starting to sit up when a kind of heavy clasp was clamped around one ankle and a hand shoved me back to the ground, Brian pinning me on my back for a few seconds before standing up and striding towards the staircase. I heard the door slam. Sitting up, I blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness, examining the chain fixing my ankle to the floor. I gave it a few tugs but it felt solid. 

Suddenly having the police called on me didn’t seem so bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna step up the shit next chapter, I wanna have it start with general abuse and just build up.


	3. Branding

I tried everything to escape. At first I was just tugging at the chain firmly fixing my ankle to the floor, sticking a hair pin into the lock and probably making it worse. The end of the pin had snapped off inside the heavy lock, jamming itself out of reach. I just had to hope it hadn't broken it.

At that point I was starting to panic, it was becoming clear that this man might really hurt me, past just simply hitting me for breaking into their home. I finally snapped into full panic mode, screaming at the walls until my throat felt like it were bleeding. They were starting to die down as the basement door opened, stairs creaking a little. 

I whimpered quietly and shuffled against the back wall, as much as I could with one ankle chained. It had only been a few hours but every little shred of dignity I had was gone. Brian only had to stop in front of me and I was sobbing like a child, covering my head with my arms. Nothing about this suggested he was going to let me go, if anything the way he was staring at me now seemed like he was waiting for me to act out again so he could beat me back down.

My main fear had quickly become going through withdrawal while down here, I was already feeling a little...wrong for lack of a better word. A few more hours and the shaking would start and after that I'll probably be chewing my ankle off to get out of here. 

After a few minutes I lifted my head slightly, eyes puffy and red from crying so much. He was still standing there, arms folded. When I didn't immediately go back to sobbing, he crouched down, grabbing my chin roughly between his thumb and forefinger and tilting my head back, exposing my neck. One finger slowly slide along the more prominent arteries along the side, pausing to feel my heart beat hammering away under my skin, fast and irregular, along with the slight vibrations every time I let out a tiny whimper. 

Finally he stood up, letting my head go and striding across the room. It was far too dark to really see what he was doing, which only made me more panicked, my stomach twisting into knots.

Finally he stopped in front of me again, placing a couple of items on the floor and roughly grabbing a handful of my shirt, at first just trying to tug it over my head but when I resisted he just ripped it open, pulling it off my body and forcefully pressing my back against the wall.

I glanced down and gave a little more attention to the objects, one of which seemed to be a large metal stick of some kind and the other was a... blowtorch? I wasn't sure until he sat back and picked it up carefully, pulling the trigger and confirming my thought process. The flame roared for a few seconds and he pressed the flame to the flat end of the metal rod, watching the steel slowly start to glow

“No, god no please” my voice was cracking already, legs kicking around. If anything this just made it worse. He pinned me back against the wall by the neck, lifting the rod up and pausing, deciding where to brand me. 

After a few seconds, he settled on my chest, just below my neckline. All my screams and pleadings didn't do anything to stop him and though I couldn't see him press the red hot steel into my chest I certainly felt it. The pain was unbelievable, far worse than getting a standard tattoo had been. The rod was only against my skin for a few seconds before being pulled away, my neck being released. It reminded me of the time I had burnt my hand on the stove, the smell of charred skin hitting my nose and making my head spin

I looked up at my captor for a moment,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short I know but I just wanted to kick this shit up a notch. Next chapter will probably be going more into the mains unspecific addiction and it being used against them

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you would be interested in this getting finished or whatever


End file.
